It always amazes me how in just one quick second, things can completely change from good to bad, and the best laid plans can be completely wiped out due to a wrong turn or a misstep.
It especially annoys me when I am the subject of said misstep.
All of my plans for hiking, kayaking, biking and otherwise just getting out to enjoy my beautiful surroundings were wiped out in one fell swoop on Tuesday evening. More specifically, they were wiped out in one loud POP, which was the sound of my achilles tendon rupturing as I dove to get a volleyball during one of our rousing community games.
I thought something had fallen on the back of my ankle, or that some madman had just taken a swipe at me with a crowbar. I crumbled instantly, let out a string of expletives (to the delight of the young children on the bench beside me who had come to watch their parents play), and was finally drug to the sidelines by Pete and another player where I winced in pain while Pete ran to get the stuff we needed before we made the half hour drive to the hospital in Nakusp.
The doctor immediately called ahead to the Vernon hospital to get me an appointment with a specialist the following morning (Nakusp, being only a town of ~1,500 people, has very little to offer in terms of medical services). Pete and I were up at 5:30 in order to make the first ferry and the two and a half hour drive to Vernon the next day. After then waiting two hours to get in, two doctors looked at my ankle and declared my achilles to be a mess. They then also gave me two options: surgery or not. Historically, most doctors would recommend immediate surgery to stitch it back up, but recent studies show that surgery is no more effective then progressive casting for healing. So I opted to stay out from under the knife; I don’t want to risk any complications with having a surgical wound when I am meant to be on a plane to a third world country in six weeks.
And so now, here I am, laid up in my first of three casts. This pretty purple one will last three weeks, then it will be replaced with another that will have my ankle adjusted to different angle. Finally, the last one will hopefully be a walking cast, so that I will be walking onto my Honduras-bound plane without crutches.
In one instant, everything is gone. My dreams of kayaking every week – gone. My plans to do several outstanding hikes in the area – gone. My goal of making an effort to be more swimsuit-ready for Honduras, gone. Everything is also infinitely more difficult, especially given that this house has many stairs. I am living in one of the most beautiful places in this country, and I am forced to only enjoy it as far as my crutches will take me. I am sad, bitter, and a bit of a downer these days.
I know, I know, there are definitely worse things in the world that can happen, and there are people that are much worse off then I am; whining and lamenting of my situation is pretty pathetic.
But it’s my blog, and I’ll whine if I want to!
(Ok. I think I’m done now.)